


Wishes of a Winter Wonderland

by XxTwistedEverAfterxX



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxTwistedEverAfterxX/pseuds/XxTwistedEverAfterxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's finally Christmas time, and Matthew surprises Alfred with a vacation to a snowy escape in Canada with a wooden cabin and their own private winter wonderland. Everything is already so new and wonderful to Alfred, who has never seen snow before, but it only gets better that his lover is there with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wishes of a Winter Wonderland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [retrobeefcake](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=retrobeefcake).



> Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year 2015 to retrobeefcake!! I was her Secret Santa for the AmeCan Christmas Exchange on Tumblr run by the blog Project-AmeCan!!! Her prompts were all so cute and wonderful and a pleasure to write, and I admit I got carried away a little, haha! Here’s Matthew taking Alfred on a vacation to a tucked away cabin in a snowy wonderland for the holidays, and their shenanigans there—fluffy and NSFW. I sincerely hope that you enjoy it! Smooch smooch!

“Fuckin’ shit! That’s so fuckin’ cool, I can’t fuckin’ believe it, fuckin’ shit!”  
  
“How dare you—on this holy day, the birth of our lord Jesus Christ. If only he could hear you now.”  
  
Alfred laughed heartily, looking about the scenery; large blue eyes crinkled from how he was squinting due to the brightness of the light reflecting off of the pure white snow that blanketed the hill and trees and the scenery that encompassed them like they were in a bowl. Mountains arched jaggedly around the trees, the thick pines stretching towards the sky high above—a never ending blue that paled in comparison to Alfred’s eye colour; crystal clear and shining and bright, unrivalled by the sky which bore fluffy white clouds to shade it from shame and defeat. His eyes dragged lower again from the mountain peaks where they scraped the heavens to their bases where they guarded a large lake, frozen a deep clear blue and speckled with snow from the banks.  
  
“Mattie, how else am I supposed to react?” Alfred choked out, stumbling as he waddled away from the car and off the driveway to the knee deep snow, shuffling through like a penguin, “You had me blindfolded nearly the whole trip—what was I meant to say?”  
  
“Something a little more church friendly,” Matthew joked, rolling his eyes as he jogged after Alfred, catching the back of his jacket before he could wander off too far, “Get back here. We’ll explore later. Help me get our stuff into the cabin already. I need to keep you on a leash to take you anywhere outdoors.”  
  
“I can  _taste_  the cold here, Mattie.  _Taste it_ ,” Alfred breathed, his eyes as wide as his cheek-splitting grin, looking almost manic in his excitement as he bounced on the spot, “And there’s so much  _snow_.”  
  
“Welcome to Canada,” Matthew laughed, “So, let’s try this again, maybe PG version, eh? What do you think?”  
  
“Okay, um, first of all, my initial thought was ‘I guess my boyfriend is a serial killer after all’ when you told me to put the blindfold on when we got on the freeway.”  
  
Matthew narrowed his eyes at him, raising an eyebrow as his lips pursed in a smothered smile to the side, stepping towards the car as he shook his head, snorting.  
  
“It was necessary, given I wanted to keep this place a surprise,” Matthew retorted, unlocking the trunk of their car and lifted it open, stretching up to let the top raise completely, “That and I nearly crashed the car  _ten times_  when you shrieked and threw yourself against the window like a possessed man at the sight of every patch of snow.”  
  
“Hey, I did  _not_  shriek,” Alfred objected with a pout, placing a hand on his hip, cocking it to the side in a manner that made Matthew snigger, “I was just excited. We don’t get a lot of snow down south where I’m from.” Pausing, Alfred glanced around, his grin returning and he bounced forward again, jumping just to hear the crunch of the snow beneath his shoes. “It was a nice surprise though, seein’ all this.”  
  
“So first impression is good?”  
  
“It’s fuckin’  _fantastic_.”  
  
“Your sinning, vile mouth.”  
  
“Swearin’ ain’t the worst thing my mouth has done, and your dick knows that.”  
  
“Oh my fucking God,  _Alfred_.”  
  
“Now who’s usin’ the lord’s name in vain?” Alfred teased, laughing and hopping backwards to avoid a swat with a pillow, dancing out of Matthew’s reach when pale fingers made a grab for him again, “Don’t act like you care. I’ve been to church more than you. When was the last time you set foot in one?”  
  
“There was this one time when I was drunk coming out of a party that some university friends had had at a bar. I needed to piss really bad, and it was a choice between begging the priest to let me borrow the bathroom, or, trying to hold on until I reached the next establishment.”  
  
“And you chose…?”  
  
“Watering the church plants,” Matthew said simply, pillows and blankets piled in his arms, thrusting them into Alfred’s, “That’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to going inside a church.”  
  
“You’re the worst Christian ever,” Alfred snorted, accepting the large pile of bedding, cautious as to how he stepped, “Alright, Anti-Christ, where do you want these, then?”  
  
“Har-har, Al. Hold on, the sleeping area’s on a loft, so you’re going to need help getting them up there, as well as getting inside the cabin, at that,” Matthew reminded, pulling out two of their duffel bags and swinging them onto his shoulders, pulling a pack onto his back as he fished out the keys, jingling them to get Alfred’s attention, “The front door is locked.”  
  
Stepping carefully, he slipped past Alfred, grinning at the other’s eagerness to explore and soak up his first experience in a true white winter wonderland, and unlocked the door, pushing it open with a firm shoulder shove and allowed it to creak open, squinting inside in search of the light switch before he flicked it on. Not that it did much, given that the windows were large and plentiful enough that natural light filtered in without qualms, but it was always nice to have extra light when moving stuff about.  
  
“Mattie, this place is—is…!” Alfred’s excitement trailed off, and Matthew laughed as Alfred dropped the bedding onto the—thankfully—clean floor, his voice replaced instead with heavy breathing as he edged towards the main living space.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, that’s a real fireplace,” Matthew boasted, violet eyes dropping to Alfred’s boots as he walked, “And that’s a real expensive rug you’re about to step on so don’t you go trekking snow and dirt any further; there’s a shoes off policy in this house. We wear slippers indoors.”  
  
“I’m going to suck your dick so hard, Mattie,” Alfred mumbled, staring about the log cabin in wonder, “This place is fantastic.”  
  
“I’m really torn between laughing in at your reaction, or rolling my eyes and treating you like I’m your mother and not your boyfriend,” Matthew sighed, shaking his head as he placed the duffel bags and backpack beside the bedding, making a move to leave to get more of their belongings, only to pause in the entrance as he spotted Alfred’s eyes locked on a taxidermy moose head mounted above the large brick fireplace, “Or treat you like my dog, leash you up and whistle to make you come. Yes, Al, that head is real, probably, now come on; let’s get the rest of our stuff from the car now.”  
  
For added affect, Matthew puckered his lips and gave a small series of pitched whistles, snapping Alfred from his near trance and making the American jog up to him, grinning happily, and all Matthew could do was roll his eyes and smile.  
  
“You’re an insufferable mutt,” he chuckled, leaning over to place a chilled lipped kiss to Alfred’s cheek, “We’ll bring everything in, unpack while it’s still daytime, and then we can go out and play in the snow. We’ll build a snowman and make snow angels and whatever your three year old heart desires.”  
  
“I’m gonna fuck a snowman,” Alfred said through his grin, darting outside before Matthew could stop him.  
  
The Canadian’s mouth opened and closed before he covered his face with his hands, dragging them down jadedly with a heavy sigh and a shake of the head, adding a mumbled “For fuck’s sake” before he laughed dryly, following his lover out of the front door. There was no use in stopping the American, and Matthew only had enough time to move out of the way before Alfred barrelled into the cabin and out to the car and back, hefting as much as he could carry in his arms at one time. Matthew only managed two trips on his own before Alfred was crowing out his delight, slamming the trunk closed and bounding back to Matthew, his breath fogging before his full pink lips as he huffed and puffed with extra exaggeration just to see it form the little wisp of mist.  
  
“We’re done gettin’ it outta the car, come on, Mattie, come on,” Alfred insisted, grasping to Matthew’s hand and tugging, “Can’t we unpack later?”  
  
“When you’re cold and tired and hungry? I don’t think so,” Matthew huffed out, trying to keep his smile minimal to maintain a scolding and stern façade, though Alfred’s bubbly energy levels were contagious, “Let’s at least set the bed, get our clothes out, and also some towels so when we come in tonight—at God knows whatever hour you finally become exhausted at—we’ll at least be able to have a hot shower, dress, and then have dinner and go to bed without hassle.”  
  
“We  _could_  do that.  _Or_ , we could go out and play in the snow for a bit first?”  
  
Violet eyes narrowed, sharpening as they locked on Alfred’s large puppy dog stare, expression hopeful and pleading, smile sweet to the point where Matthew could  _feel_  the cavities rotting his teeth with the sugariness. Alfred didn’t have to wait for verbal permission, Matthew’s heavy sigh of surrender being all that he needed before he was leaping into the air with a click of the heels of his boots and was out of the door with a whooping cheer. The heavy thump moments later was signal to a jaded Matthew that Alfred had either already fallen face first into snow, or had intentionally projected himself face first into the nearest fluffy white pile. Given Alfred’s clumsiness and excitement, both were plausible.  
  
Whilst he left Alfred to exert some of his boundless energy alone first, Matthew toed off his boots at the entrance, replacing them with thick fuzzy socks and slippers and got to work setting their cabin up. He already  _knew_  that Alfred wouldn’t be helping out even slightly, though he was aware it wasn’t out of maliciousness or a lack of will to help. It was a special occasion, a special Christmas getaway, and Alfred’s first time seeing snow not in pictures on the computer. Matthew let him have this one little excuse to get out of unpacking.  
  
Duffel bags were unloaded and clothes were placed on hangers in the tucked away cupboard, towels refolded and placed on the racks in the bathroom, and all of their amenities neatly lined on the shelves above the sink and the shower-tub combination that filled a majority of the washroom. It was when he was up on the wooden loft—built up above the bathroom and storage cupboard, the ladder hidden in the corner of the cabin by the windows—and was pulling the sheets over the mattress and connecting the electric blanket that Alfred threw open the door again. A gust of cold wind flowed in with him, his fringe soggy and sticking to his forehead and glasses, cheeks and nose a bright red as he panted.  
  
“Mattie, are you gonna spend all day indoors or am I gonna drag you out here myself?” Alfred called, stepping inside, glancing about before pausing, straightening his posture and angling his chin up, as though seeking with his nose, “Mattie? Where are you?”  
  
Matthew laughed softly, snapping Alfred’s gaze up to the loft, waving down at him with one hand as he held up a fluffed up pillow with the other, replying with a soft, “I’m making our bed for the night. You would have been able to help if you weren’t outside getting soaking wet.”  
  
Alfred grinned widely again, fingers curled into fists and tucked in against his chest.  
  
“We get to sleep up  _there_?”  
  
“Mhm. I was just finishing up now. I’ve put almost everything else away so all that’s left is food and kitchenware, but all our bathroom stuff and bedroom stuff is sorted,” Matthew replied, placing the pillow down to lean his elbows and forearms against the wooden railing of the loft to look down at his flushed partner, “Oh, and of course entertainment, but I think we won’t need it for today, eh?”  
  
“What’d you bring?”  
  
“It’s a surprise.”  
  
“Yeah, well, I got a surprise for you too!”  
  
Matthew raised an eyebrow, making a curious hum as he turned away from the ledge, finishing fluffing up the pillows and duvet in their thick covers, making sure the spacious queen sized mattress area was soft and ready, only to back up to the ladder and climb back down. Reaching the ground floor, he tucked his feet into his slippers, shuffling to Alfred where he was bouncing eagerly, much too proud for whatever he’d gotten up to outside.  
  
“What do you have to show me then, eh?” he asked softly, moving to stand in the doorway, letting his hand be tugged by Alfred’s frozen one, peering outside into the relative brightness.  
  
“I-I made a snow angel.”  
  
Alfred’s breathless innocence and sweetness had Matthew smiling, his gaze soft and tender as he focused on the patch of snow where Alfred had fallen into—the twelfth pile, if he had counted all of those other attempts correctly—studying the outline of Alfred’s body and the creases of his coat and scarf left imprinted. It was a little messy, and it was clear to see where Alfred had rolled from side to side, as though trying to press in deeper, or check his progress and if his, clearly wild, arm and leg swings needed more work. Lifting his eyes up, Matthew found Alfred staring eagerly, proudly, happily, and his heart melted that little bit more, finding himself thankful that he’d organised this secret little getaway as a Christmas present to them both. Just Alfred’s reactions and happiness alone were reward enough.  
  
“You’re the angel here. It’s beautiful,” he complimented, clicking his tongue as Alfred began to bounce again, looking to the snow as though ready to leap in once again, settling down only at Matthew’s warm kiss on his frozen cheek, “Before you run off on me again, let’s get you inside for a bit, warmed up, and into some dry clothes. I’ll start cooking lunch soon.”  
  
That all proved to be easier said than done.  
  
Wrangling Alfred indoors when there was a whole new winter wonderland outside was as difficult a task as guiding a bull through a china store with minimum damage. Alfred had pleaded to be allowed out a little longer, at first, and then howled in objection when Matthew denied him, and then  _finally_  tried to run back into their little yard, only to stumble. He was caught easily by Matthew mid-air, who in retaliation took a handful of snow and thrust it down the inside of Alfred’s collar and scarf and into his jacket, earning shrieks in response before he surrendered, much to the pouty man’s dismay.  
  
A hot shower later and wrapped snugly in dry, clean, thick clothes, Alfred emerged the bathroom smiling to the smell of onions, garlic and cheese, his hair dried, if only because Matthew had given him a stern— _lippy_ —forty seven minute lecture about why he had to blow dry his hair when it was cold out.  
  
“Smells good, Mattie,” he chirped, now considerably calmer from the earlier buzz, the hot shower having soothed him and warmed him up, his thick socks patterned with an ugly snowflake-and-stripes print, outdone only by the grotesque beauty of his woollen sweater, “What’re you cookin’?”  
  
Matthew made a move to turn around from where he was frying food, only to wrinkle his nose on sight at the sweater—a bright yet deep blue, spotted with sparkly gold stars. Stripes of red and white curled around the collar and top of the sleeves by the shoulders, with white snowflakes on the red, and holly on the white, all between patterns of the same deep blue triangles, even the sleeves by the wrist mimicked the same print, the collars rounded off with a soft faux glitter tinsel in mixed colours of blue, white and red.  
  
“Ugh.”  
  
“Like my sweater?” Alfred cooed, sauntering up to the Canadian, fingering at the fluff around the collar.  
  
“It’s  _hideous_.”  
  
“Mhm~…”  
  
“I love it.”  
  
“Where’s yours?” Alfred asked, placing his hands on Matthew’s hips, easing in comfortably behind him, nestling his chin on Matthew’s shoulder as he watched him cook, the carbonara sauce looking as good as it smelt.  
  
“I’ll put mine on in a minute, I just wanted to get make some food for us first,” Matthew said simply, banging the edge of the spoon against the frying pan to shake off the sauce before he placed it aside, “You’re not going back outside again? I thought you were only going to wear that in the evenings and before bed?”  
  
“Yeah, well, I want to eat first, and I didn’t realise how cold I was until it felt like I burnt myself with the water from the cold tap,” Alfred hummed, poking Matthew in the side with a frown at the snort of laughter he made, “Hey, cut me some slack, I’m really excited!”  
  
“You were frothing at the mouth and tossing yourself about like a possessed man,” Matthew reminded, amusement not shy of showing itself, reaching over to check on the spaghetti, “I was genuinely starting to worry if your cursing fit was a sign that the devil had entered you or something.”  
  
“It’s my first time!” Alfred objected, pressing his face in against Matthew’s neck and nuzzling it firmly with a whine.  
  
“I know, I’m teasing,” Matthew laughed, shrugging out of Alfred’s embrace to switch off the stovetop and move to the cupboards above the kitchen bench top, “I’ll take you out for more fun later. Just help me set the table, okay?”  
  
Loud cackles boomed as Matthew handed over a sealed bag of paper plates, followed by plastic cutlery, returning to the stove to drain the spaghetti in the sieve in the sink, glancing over his shoulder to grin and add a quick, “I’m a classy bitch.”  
  
“Didn’t you pack proper plates and stuff too? I thought you did.”  
  
“I did, but I still have to wash them from the car packaging and frankly I can’t be fucked to do so at this stage, so our first meal will be with these. We’ve got a week here, and I guarantee there will be days where neither of us will have the strength to clean, so these will do; disposable and all, no effort.”  
  
“That’s fair enough.”  
  
Tearing the packaging open, Alfred placed two plates on the table, taking his time to stroke the grains of wood, a bubbly giggle twittering in his throat that made Matthew glance over the curve of his shoulder and smile, looking down to avoid burning himself as he transferred the spaghetti back into the pot. There was a special happiness in Alfred’s eyes, not that he was miserable in their own little apartment, but the rarity of finding such an organic looking table made from a large, solid slab of wood, with chairs sawn from logs to sit on, and everything smelling like pine and the distinct bite of chill, was all intriguing and exciting for him, and Matthew drew off of Alfred’s energies.  
  
“What’s the plan after lunch?” Alfred asked, plopping himself down at the head of the table, still looking about the cabin like a child in a candy store, “You’re not spendin’ all day in here.”  
  
“I’m not; just for a little bit more after we eat lunch to clean some things up and make sure we’re all set so we can relax from tonight. Once that’s done, I’ll teach you how to make snowballs and build a snowman and igloo until the sun starts to set,” Matthew spoke, bringing the pot of spaghetti over, frowning and pausing as he glanced down at Alfred, “What about the cooling rack? I’m not putting a hot pot and frying pan on this nice table. Go get the cloth heat protector and put that down first so the rack doesn’t scratch up the wood.”  
  
“Where’d you put it?”  
  
“It’s to your right, the drawer next to the one under the sink.”  
  
“I’ve got it!”  
  
Settling down for lunch, the two ate in relative silence, content and peaceful, their feet beneath the table playing and rubbing smoothly against their fuzzy socks and slippers. With full bellies and warmed up bodies, they worked as a team, Matthew basking in how wonderful it was to be sickeningly in love with someone as their fingers bumped between passing on wet dishes to be dried, clearing the table and unpacking the last of their belongings, and stolen kisses that were so hot they could melt snow, but still tender and passionate and slow. It was with the fifth of those kisses that Matthew found himself tumbling backwards onto the couch, padded with a thick throw rug over the back, laughing into Alfred’s mouth as the American crawled on top of him, straddling his hips awkwardly with the couch’s width, his thick, muscled arms bracing by Matthew’s head, keeping him up and from putting all of his weight on the Canadian beneath him.  
  
“Get off already, Al,” he sniggered, gasping out a breathless laugh as Alfred’s lips burned marks down his cheeks and jaw line, teeth tugging goose bumps on his arms beneath his sweaters, “Don’t you want to build a snowman?”  
  
“ _Do you wanna build a_ —”  
  
“No! Don’t you  _dare_! Off!” Matthew laughed, yelping as Alfred flopped down heavily on top of him, wheezing dramatically as though being suffocated, “If you sing that song, I’ll lock you outside overnight until you  _turn into_  a damn snowman.”  
  
“ _Do you wanna fuck a—_ ”  
  
“Alfred!”  
  
“Hey, hey, Mattie, how about you put on your ugly sweater now, huh? I want some hot chocolate and to light the fire. Maybe we can warm up more?” Alfred suggested, attention span already snapping to a new topic, jerking Matthew along for the ride, “It’s already pretty late.”  
  
Surprised, Matthew turned his head to the window, the sun setting over the snowy mountains, tinting everything bright marigold and ruby. He let out a hum of astonishment, pressing his hands to the couch and eased himself up, keeping his gaze out the window even as Alfred’s head dipped down, mouthing sweetly at his jaw line and neck. A husky rumble echoed deep in his chest, and Matthew’s eyes fluttered shut as the simple kisses and brushes of lips turned into little sucks and pulls with grazes of teeth teasing at sensitive areas.  
  
“I suppose we did arrive a bit after midday and had lunch late. It’s only about four though, isn’t it?”  
  
“Mhm. More night time. More play time.”  
  
“ _Less_  playtime,” Matthew corrected, sliding a hand along the thickness of Alfred’s thighs, smoothing his palm over his hips where he rubbed it in slow circles, “Day time is outside play time.”  
  
“Night time is play time too, just we don’t go outside and get cold—we stay inside and get hot,” Alfred cooed, his grin felt against Matthew’s neck as his pearly whites gave a playful and sharp nip that made Matthew gasp.  
  
“Let me get my…  _sexy_  apparel on then,” Matthew said lowly, voice intentionally husky, giving the other a purposeful eyebrow wiggle that was returned when their eyes met, Alfred making a soft, husky, interested noise before pecking Matthew once on the lips, and then crawled off his lap to sit on the couch, “I’ll be back in a minute.”  
  
“I’ll be openly masturbatin’ here if you need me!” Alfred called as Matthew pushed himself up and off the couch, sauntering with an exaggerated sway of his hips towards the cupboard beside the ladder, “Remember, if I don’t cream my pants on sight, the sweater ain’t ugly enough!”  
  
“Feel free to use the ugly napkins to clean up with,” Matthew threw back, pulling off his top layer of clothes one by one.  
  
“The fuck? We’ve got them?”  
  
“They’re in the drawer below the silverware where I put the paper plates and plastic cutlery!”  
  
“Fuck me, I’ve got an erection.”  
  
“I will fuck you,  _later_ , but that’s embarrassing that you got a hard-on over tissue paper.”  
  
Alfred laughed heartily at that, listening to the rustle of clothing as he stretched his arms behind his head, using his hands for pillowing while his eyes slipped shut. Absently, he hummed Christmas carols, a more relaxed and peaceful version of the up-tempo bounciness, and Matthew let the husk of Alfred’s voice consume him as he got dressed, comfortably in his winter pyjamas with the ugly sweater that he’d picked out on top. It was a bright red with similar gold accents of snowflakes and white diamond patterns and lines, though the monstrosity design sat in the centre; a large snowman wrapped in a golden scarf and an ugly sweater of its own, dancing amongst golden snowflakes.  
  
Tiptoeing as best as he could in his slippers, Matthew made his way back to the couch where Alfred sat, his legs spread wide, pulling taught the navy sweatpants he wore over his thighs and crotch, and slid his fingers softly over Alfred’s eyes beneath his rectangular glasses to cover them.  
  
“Don’t peek.”  
  
“You’re too hard to resist though, babe.”  
  
Matthew smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Alfred’s temple, nuzzling it with his nose gently and then threw a leg over the back of the couch, crawling over and slid his hands away once he was settled. Bright blue eyes opened, immediately snapping to Matthew and blinked in rapid succession, staring the sweater up and down before Alfred’s nose crinkled, his face twisting in a deep repulsion that was almost exaggerated.  _Almost_. They’d surprised each other with which sweater they had bought in the end, forming a little competition of who could find the ugliest jumper that season.  
  
“Gross,” Alfred grunted, turning a little on his side to get a good view.  
  
“Wait, you haven’t seen the worst bit,” Matthew added, reaching in down the side where the tag was, squeezing it briefly, drawing a horrified sound from Alfred as the snowflakes began to twinkle with the little bulbs hidden beneath the glitter fabric atop the wool, “It lights up.”  
  
“Holy fuck that’s atrocious,” Alfred groaned, studying each sparkling snowflake as Matthew puffed his chest out proudly, allowing callused fingertips to ghost over each part of the pattern, the colour dulled in the dim lighting, “I think you win this year. I hate to say it, but my sewn on tinsel shit ain’t no match for this thing.”  
  
Settling himself between Alfred’s legs, Matthew pressed him down, eyes hooding as he tugged on the knitted blue of Alfred’s sweater, expression coy as he gazed down.  
  
“How about I light the literal fire and then we can light our metaphorical fire, eh?” he suggested, patting at Alfred’s chest, the American already eagerly nodding, “You go make us both some hot chocolate. Chocolate powder is in the top cupboard, milk is in the fridge, and marshmallows are with the chocolate powder.”  
  
“God, I love you, Mattie,” Alfred breathed, leaning in to steal a kiss, their jaws shifting slowly, the masculine sharp lines accentuated as their mouths opened, tongues touching only briefly before Matthew pulled back, leaving Alfred groaning and pouting.  
  
Staring appreciatively at Matthew’s ass as he walked, Alfred remained sitting, enjoying the view when Matthew bent over to pick up some of the logs by the grate, choosing two thick ones and began to arrange them with some bits of newspaper, starting to stuff, his back arched, swaying his hips slowly. Unable to resist, Alfred slid a hand down his body, palming the length of his cock through his sweatpants, cupping and squeezing with a shaky breath, though having the decency to blush when Matthew glanced back, violet eyes zeroing in on his hand’s movements.  
  
“Make us some hot chocolate, Al,” Matthew whispered, his voice taking on a sensual tone, lower than his usual wispy and light pitch, smooth and velveteen and Alfred’s cock twitched in response to it, knowing what that voice meant, what it would get him, “If you’re quick, I’ll let you suck my cock… Maybe even fuck your mouth in front of this fireplace.”  
  
Gripping hard to his flaccid length, he felt it twitch at the words, his jaw aching, salivating at the sudden need he had with occupying his mouth. Matthew knew it all, knew how it worked him up, knew how easily he could be worked up with a bit of commanding and promises of being  _allowed_  to satisfy his burning oral fixation. Alfred looked to be in total control in daily life, but in the bedroom—or living room, or kitchen, or hall, or wherever their desires struck them—he handed the reigns over to Matthew.  
  
To Matthew, who when stood next to him wasn’t as bulky with muscles, or layered with little pads of fat on hips, thighs and ass, but taut, toned muscles, built slim and with ridges of strength that weren’t shown until pale skin was revealed and he flexed. Matthew, who had loose silken curls of fair blond and caramel that softened the sharp line of his jaw and high cheekbones, and large almond eyes hidden by rounded spectacles with thick frames. Matthew with soft, rose pink lips, with snow white skin and the tendency to colour red at every shift in temperature; when he exercised, got angry, happy, embarrassed, and flustered. Matthew who hated to be belittled and emasculated, and knew how to re-establish his dominance so that Alfred was on his knees in an instant, who was sly and witty and passive-aggressive and knew how much to tease so it was unbearable but not uncomfortable.  
  
Scrambling to his feet, Alfred obeyed the single look he was given, sultry and promising, and he hurried to make the perfect hot chocolate. He’d be made to redo it if it was clumsily or wrongly made, if there were spills trickling along the side of the mug, if there were floating chunks of chocolate powder undissolved, if it was too sweet, or if it was too hot. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
A teaspoon of chocolate powder, two teaspoons of sugar, and enough boiling hot water just to cover it and dissolve, stirring briskly to make sure there were no bits left behind. Matthew preferred his hot chocolates creamy, more milky than watery, and Alfred poured in hot milk he heated on the stove next—eighty degrees Celsius, because that was the temperature Matthew liked it—and frothed the top only enough that the tiniest bit of chocolate powder and drizzle of maple syrup would stick and float. The three small mini marshmallows were added, and proudly, Alfred carried them with haste back to the couch, setting the mugs down on two coasters on the little set of drawers to the side, sliding his slippers off to better feel the rug beneath him and crawled onto the couch where Matthew waited.  
  
The fire crackled, small, but it had been provoked and caught on to the logs, and it wouldn’t take long for it to burn warmly for them, already casting a cosy glow against their bodies, lighting the room up in the twilight that was darkening the outdoors. They didn’t bother to light the main lights—dimness was preferable at the moment, more sensual.  
  
“Such a good, obedient, loving man,” Matthew crooned as Alfred sidled up to him, crawled to him on his hands and knees, seeking the affection that was given willingly and immediately, “So eager to please.”  
  
“I love you, Mattie, God, I love you so much. So much, Mattie, I do,” Alfred murmured, nuzzling in against the hand cupping his cheek, smoothing over the sun kissed skin, freshly shaved in the earlier shower before lunch, “This trip is fantastic. This place is so good. There’s so much snow and you’re so perfect, Mattie, oh my God, I love you.”  
  
Hushing him, Matthew smiled, his movements slow as he spread his legs and pulled Alfred between them, the bulkier man adjusting his body so that they were hip to hip, chest to chest, and nose to nose, though he only ever did what Matthew allowed.  
  
It was more fun that way, after all.  
  
“Let me have a taste of the hot chocolate, eh? See how well you made it while we wait for the fire to grow a little,” he said casually, voice still the same low tenor as he rotated his upper body, reaching out for the nearest mug, knowing that Alfred could feel the flex of his muscles and the arch of his back, “Pull that blanket over us, help us get warm.”  
  
Eyes searched briefly for the edge of the throw rug, pulling the fluffy heat over them both, careful not to jostle Matthew or make him spill the drink as he covered over their feet, tucking the fabric in around their legs before he settled in comfortably, shuffling down to pillow his chin on Matthew’s chest, smiling adoringly up at him. As he sipped at the drink, Matthew reached down to stroke Alfred’s hair, the sunshine blond sliding along his fingers, and Alfred let out a near purred hum of delight.  
  
“Perfect.”  
  
The compliment had Alfred beaming, his toes curling in pleasure at making Matthew happy, and he whimpered out a moan of delight as the ugly sweater the Canadian wore was tugged upwards, along with the thick pyjamas he wore beneath, revealing a pale and taut abdomen, and Alfred began to press kisses to the skin the moment his head was guided down. Matthew’s hands were his encouragement, pressing him closer as his stomach rose and fell with his breaths, muscles twitching as his lips lingered over sensitive or ticklish spots, persistently stimulating until he heard a breathless hitch between a moan and a giggle catch in Matthew’s throat, and then he continued downwards.  
  
Callused fingers hooked beneath the band of Matthew’s pyjama bottoms, long thermal underwear, and briefs, tugging them all down as Matthew’s hips lifted up, half-shimmying out of them so that they remained tucked around his mid-thighs. His cock was barely half hard, resting against his thigh as Alfred picked it up, curling his fingers around it and gave soft pulls, dragging the pressure from base to the bulbous head. Each shift had Matthew drawing in a slightly harder, deeper breaths, gaze focused on Alfred’s determined and enraptured expression.  
  
Only when Matthew was half hard did Alfred lean in, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock, smiling impishly up at Matthew who grinned down at him, one hand on the mug of hot chocolate, the other toying with his hair, twirling the golden strands in little ringlets around his fingers.  
  
“Go on, you can suck it,” Matthew assured, hardly able to finish the sentence before he was moaning softly, eyes fluttering when Alfred took the tip in, hollowed his cheeks and began to suck. The point of his tongue flickered along the sensitive hole at the tip, pressing in just the way Alfred knew Matthew liked it, revelling in the sharp gasp and the tension in his powerful leg muscles, thighs quivering as they pressed to Alfred’s shoulders.  
  
Blue eyes flickered between watching Matthew’s cock harden and his own ministrations on it, to watching Matthew’s expression shift to pleasure, cheeks already colouring a dark pink, starkly clear against such pale skin even in the darkness. The fire crackled and popped, though Matthew’s gasp was louder, more pitched, encouragement to keep going at that one spot that could work Matthew up and make him come undone faster than any other combination of licks, sucks, or firm and fast pumps of his cock.  
  
“Fill your mouth up. You c-can be greedy today,” Matthew murmured, his words tripping over his tongue at a loud and lewd slurp as Alfred began to mess with his foreskin, his brows creasing upwards in pleasure as his jaw fell slack, “Show me how deep you can take me in, come on— _nngh_. Swallow my dick up, Al.”  
  
Humming out his delight at the soft command, Alfred parted his lips, tongue swirling around the head, slowly dipping downwards and lapping at the hardness covered by velvet smooth flesh. Sliding his hand down to the base, he held it still, angled up as he sucked along the sides, tilting his head so his lips and tongue could easily brush along it in a fluid motion. Matthew let out soft moans, urging Alfred to take him fully into his mouth again with presses to the top of his head, his toes curling in his socks beneath the throw rug, ankles and feet rubbing against Alfred’s calves.  
  
“ _Alfred_ …”  
  
His name was a breathy plea, yet authoritative in the impatience that it gave off, little tugs at golden blond strands enough to pull him up from where he was slicking up flesh and to the tip. Instantly, his lips parted, he took in a deep breath, and he swallowed down as much as he could, sinking down slowly while his other hand braced on Matthew’s hips when they jerked upwards, keeping them down against the couch. Swallowing around the girth, Alfred eased his lips lower, easier done with the saliva, and his gaze locked on Matthew— _gorgeous_  Matthew and how he clutched to the couch cushions with one hand while the other stroked and tugged at his hair.  
  
It took working up to do, but his throat steadily relaxed, going just that bit further each time. Matthew was longer than he was, even if Alfred was thicker—but only just barely, and they’d resorted to metric units when comparing measurements just for proof. Alfred only ever used the metric system when it could swing anything in his favour, particularly the victory of a disagreement.  
  
Taking Matthew in little by little, the thick musky scent invaded and overwhelmed Alfred’s nostrils, lips stretched wide and slick with spit, his cheeks full as he hollowed them and sucked. With one deep breath, the head of Matthew’s cock passed deeper, throat rubbing and working the sensitive flesh where the foreskin had been pulled back taut, and the reaction was instant and glorious. Matthew’s head tipped back, loose curls splaying over the armchair of their couch, haloing his face which was flushed a hot ruby, glowing and trailing down his neck like watercolours dribbling through his flesh. Soft sounds of delight fell from Matthew’s lips, body tense and trembling with the struggle to hold still and not accidentally choke his lover as he was finally— _finally_ —taken in right to the root of his arousal.  
  
Alfred’s lips formed a tight seal around the base, nose nestled amongst the thick but neatly trimmed blond hair there, his eyes squeezing shut tightly, brows furrowing in concentration; lick, suck, swallow, hum. Lick, suck, swallow hum. The pattern he’d perfected into a fluid motion helping him to keep Matthew deep in his mouth—in his  _throat_ —for longer.  
  
The affects were worth the slight discomfort, and his own oral fixation encouraged him to keep his mouth full, the taste of musk and hard flesh and the slightest bit of pre-cum had him semi-hard in his own pants. His hand came up, cupping Matthew’s balls, rolling them softly, stroking his thumb between each one in the sac to tighten it, slowly drawing it away from Matthew’s body as he sucked vigorously, moaning huskily around the hardness.  
  
“O-Oh fuck… Pull up, Alfred, shit,” Matthew hissed, nails scratching along the cushions, fingers like claws, “Pull up, pull up, shit, that’s s-so fucking hot; I might c-cum,  _Alfred_.”  
  
The urgent tone made Alfred suck all the harder, his cheeks flushed and reflexive tears dampening his lashes, his other hand grasping hard to Matthew’s slim hip, thumb hooked around the sharp jutting bone. His actions had the Canadian moaning a bit more audibly, more than simple grunts, groans and shaky sighs, and he could feel the press of toned thighs squeezing at his shoulders, Matthew’s toes curled hard and feet arched.  
  
“A-Alf— _fuck_ …  _Nngh_ , oh my God, I’m going to cum,” Matthew warned, chest rising and falling, the twinkling of the lights from his sweater’s snowflakes dancing along his expression, the room around them dark, the fire’s luminescence bathing them and showing only shades of yellow and orange and contours.  
  
From this angle, he could see the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath the ugly sweater, the creases of eyebrows and crinkle of violet eyes behind rounded glasses that reflected the fire. Pulling himself up with a gasp, saliva strings connected his slightly swollen lips to the head of Matthew’s cock, broken by a swift tongue as Alfred heaved in mouthfuls of air, and then dove back down, more enthusiastic, more eager, bobbing his head from the bulbous tip to mid-way the length in smooth and long sucks. Matthew was trembling, jerking beneath him, fingers tight in Alfred’s hair and tugging with every surge of pleasure as the heat bubbled in his veins, the coil in his gut tightening unbearably as the pressure built in his balls.  
  
One deep suck, lewd slurp, and a deep press of Alfred’s tongue against the little hole at the tip had Matthew crying out sharply, slapping a hand over his mouth as he came messily, breathing hard and arching up, fisting Alfred’s hair tightly. His release shook him deeply, twitching with every additional jostle of pleasure through his system from Alfred lapping up his cum, milking him of it with long strokes along the length of his cock and firm sucks on the head.  
  
Violet eyes cracked open, peering down the length of his body to find Alfred smiling around the tip, swallowing and then pulling back, placing a single chaste kiss to the head with a cheeky smile that made Matthew snort out a soft, breathless laugh. He covered his face with his hand, feeling Alfred tug his pyjama pants and two sets of underwear back up and over his hips, tucking him back in with a firm pat to his sensitive crotch, which was still hard, and begin to crawl over the top of him.  
  
“You’re ridiculous,” Matthew murmured breathlessly, letting Alfred slouch over him to grab his own hot chocolate, significantly cooled down though still warm, and take a few deep gulps of the sugary drink, “I can’t believe you can deep throat me. I can’t believe you enjoy having your mouth stuffed like that, or swallowing.”  
  
“Swallowin’ ain’t so bad. You’ve got a good diet so it ain’t nasty. Plus I’ve got hot chocolate so I can rinse the taste back,” Alfred said, placing the mug down and licked his lips, settling back down to rest on Matthew, head pillowing on his chest after adjusting the sweater and undershirts back down, “Just ‘cause I swallow doesn’t mean you have to. I don’t mind that you don’t.”  
  
“I’ll kiss you once you’ve brushed your teeth,” Matthew chuckled, sliding his hand from his hot face, one arm draped around Alfred’s shoulders while the other began to smooth back his hair, messy from being fisted, “Do you want me to suck you off?”  
  
“Hm? Nah, that was me thankin’ you for this trip. I really appreciate it and love watchin’ you cum. I already jerked off in the shower a few times, anyway, so I’ll go soft again pretty quickly.”  
  
“So that’s why you were in there for so long,” Matthew mused, feet languidly rubbing along Alfred’s calves, his body sinking into the sofa.  
  
The fire burned brightly at their side, heating the small log cabin up as the smoke was pulled out through the brick chimney. They lay contently for ages, both worn out pleasantly and sipping at their hot chocolate, simply pressing fingers against skin in massages, tender and loving affections that kept the heat trapped beneath the throw rug around their bodies and lulled them to a semi-sleep. It took Matthew’s prods to get Alfred to eventually crawl off, almost asleep on his chest, cuddled up to him, and they placed their mugs in the sink with water to wash up in the morning, and made their way up the ladder and onto the loft to the mattress. Curling up together, their glasses above their pillows, they fluffed up the blankets and allowed the small fire to burn out on its own, their legs tangled beneath the duvet as they spooned, Alfred’s chest to Matthew’s back, curled protectively around his lover.  
  
Woken up the moment the sun rose by Alfred’s kisses on his neck and impatient squirming atop of him, Matthew was forced out of bed and down to make breakfast for them both—simple scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and fried mushrooms and tomatoes. Alfred inhaled his plate with concerning speed, offering to wash the dishes while Matthew bathed and used the shower, along with his disgustingly straight black coffee, to wake himself up more.  
  
“I already showered and cleaned up the place while you were sleepin’, so I’m ready to go outside whenever you are!”  
  
His cheery voice had left Matthew dumbfounded, and he had to down his caffeine in one large gulp before he slunk off to the bathroom to shower, surprised he hadn’t noticed that Alfred was already fully dressed in thick clothes for the outdoors. Even then Alfred wasn’t patient, and by the time he was awake, completely dry, and dressed, Alfred was already hovering on the threshold of the cabin, door wide open and sliding his foot inch by inch towards the snow where his gaze was locked, only ever impatiently flicking to check that Matthew was indeed following. Locking up the cabin after taking one of the smaller bags that had been stuffed into storage, Matthew followed Alfred out into the chill. He grasped his hand, clutching on to keep Alfred from running off too far without him, guiding him along the salted dirt driveway and started their trek down the little hill their cabin cosily rested on.  
  
“Where are we headin’ to, Mattie?” Alfred asked, looking about the tall snow blanketed pines around them, blue eyes wide and as excited as the day before, swinging their arms happily between them.  
  
“We’re going to the lake. You can see it slightly from our cabin if you look through the window up on the loft where our bed is. It’s frozen over and there’s a lot of untouched snow there,” Matthew replied, his steps coming up taller, knees being brought up higher to step through the thick snow that Alfred simply shuffled through, “You’ll have plenty of space there to build a big snowman, and we can start work on an igloo. Then I have a surprise for you.”  
  
“A surprise?” Alfred chirped, slipping a little in the snow, Matthew grasping his hand tighter and yanking him to keep him upright, “What’s the surprise?”  
  
“I can’t tell you that,” Matthew pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him and shook his head, “I can tell you this though; it’s got something to do with the lake and what’s in this bag.”  
  
“What’s in the bag?”  
  
“You’ll see.”  
  
“Aww, mean.”  
  
“The worst of them all,” Matthew laughed, squatting slightly as he began to lead them down the hill, “Careful here. Bend your knees so you don’t fall, okay? Lean slightly forward. If you fall, you’ll end up yanking me down with you and then we’ll skid down to the bottom.”  
  
“Oh my God, really?”  
  
Realising his warning was interpreted as something else, Matthew’s eyes widened, unable to choke out an objection before Alfred was pulling him into his arms and jerking their feet out from under them. The ground was slippery, icy beneath the snow and Matthew clung to Alfred viciously, staring in horror as the scenery zoomed past while Alfred hooted in delight, cheering loud enough that his cries echoed back to them thrice over. Wind whipped at their cheeks, and Matthew braced himself for impact, curling his legs close to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the speed steady as the ground evened out beneath them.  
  
When they finally came to a stop, Alfred was howling with laughter, holding onto Matthew while he was clung to like a leech that had developed claws. Daring to crack his eyes open, Matthew glanced around them, hair tangled and messy about his face, speckles of water where snow had hit him in the face and melted sliding over his dark pink cheeks.  
  
The lake.  
  
Alfred had skid them down the hill, and shot them straight out towards the centre of the lake.  
  
“Oh my God, that was  _fun_!” Alfred crowed, patting Matthew’s back between his obnoxious laughs, “Even better than goin’ down the stairs on the ironing board!”  
  
Violet eyes turned slowly, his head jerky as it followed to stare at Alfred in a calm-before-the-storm fury, bottled up as he remained icily silent, still clutching to the American like his life depended on it.  
  
“You were so scared, you didn’t even scream, oh my God!”  
  
“Alfred.”  
  
“Come on, hop up and we’ll get back on the ground.”  
  
“Alfred.”  
  
“Hoo-wee, look at us, huh? Skid right onto the lake!”  
  
“ _Alfred_.”  
  
The sharp use of his name had Alfred’s laughs settling to mere sniggers, finally casting a glance to the side at Matthew, regretting that he had done so at all. Though he hadn’t felt the sharp burn of the cold wind against his face as they’d zoomed down the hill, he could feel the icy daggers ripping at his flesh coming from Matthew’s eyes, despite his expression being neutral.  
  
“Take your shoes off.”  
  
“H-Huh?”  
  
Not even waiting for Alfred to obey, Matthew was detaching himself from him, reaching down and yanking at laces. Immediately, Alfred began to object, reaching down to stop Matthew’s hands, only to have them swatted away.  
  
“Mattie, I’m sorry! Don’t do that; it’s cold!!”  
  
“This wasn’t the way I expected to reveal the surprise, but we’ve got not choice now that we’re here,” Matthew grumbled, huffing, frowning as he yanked Alfred’s shoe off, dropping it to the ice beside them as he worked on the other, ignoring Alfred’s whines, “It would have been easier on land, but whatever. _Whatever_. Keep still now.”  
  
“Why are you takin’ off my shoes?” Alfred whimpered, reaching down to clutch at his foot, wrapped in two thick pairs of socks, still trying to keep it warm, “Is this my punishment? I’m sorry. Why take my shoes off? Why, Mattie, why?”  
  
“I’m teaching you how to ice skate,” Matthew huffed, pushing the bag to Alfred as he removed the second boot, dropping it to the ice before he pulled at the drawstring top of the pack, opening it up and pulled out a single skate, “I was going to save the surprise for after we at least wore you down a little with a snowball fight and building a snowman, but I guess you need energy to focus on where your feet are going.”  
  
“I’m gonna ice skate?” Alfred gasped, excitement rushing back into his face, even as Matthew pushed the skate onto his feet, wiggling it on and watching as Matthew began to lace the straps up tight, fingers deft as they worked.  
  
“Surprise. Though, this wasn’t the way I planned on telling you,” Matthew sighed, shaking his head, clipping straps on and pushing the plastic in until it clicked and locked, “Give me your other foot then, eh?”  
  
“Oh my God, oh my God, I’m gonna learn how to ice skate!” Alfred wheezed, melting the sour expression from Matthew’s face, making him look up and smile. It was hard to be annoyed or angry when Alfred was so excited.  
  
“Yeah, well, just be careful. Next time we might not be so lucky. We could run into a tree or roll on the way down and break bones as we fall, or even hit the ice too hard and crack it and risk falling in. So don’t do that on purpose again. People have died doing that carelessly, and as stupid as your sliding down our stairs on an ironing board is, it’s a lot less dangerous than hitting a tree at our speed and then having no nearby hospital and poor mobile reception,” he lectured, working on securing the other shoe efficiently, “So please listen next time and don’t throw us down a hill. We’re lucky. Your pants might have torn though because there was  _ice_  under the snow, so we’ll make sure you haven’t scratched your dumb ass up or anything.”  
  
Pouting, Alfred ducked his head down, looking up at Matthew through his lashes before he looked aside, cheeks red from the cold and also embarrassment, grumbling out a soft, “But we  _didn’t_  get hurt, so don’t be so mad.”  
  
“I’m  _glad_  we’re not hurt, especially on our first full day of vacation.”  
  
“Yeah, that’d suck.”  
  
“Suck is an understatement. ‘Suck’ is when that TV show you were waiting for got cancelled the night of the finale. ‘Suck’ is when they’re out of your favourite snack that you were craving in the supermarket. Being projected at over fifty kilometres an hour without friction or breaks into a huge pine tree and dying is not something I’d say simply ‘sucked’.”  
  
Working on his own shoes, Matthew undid them and shoved them off, his hands moving easier on his own feet rather than on the American’s, pulling off his boots and dropping them down, exchanging them for his own pair of skates; well worn and comfortable. They fit him like they were made for him, sliding on without any resistance, and once they were laced up and clipped on he put away their shoes in the bag, tied it up, shouldered it, planted the blades of them firmly on the ice, and pushed up.  
  
Smoothly, he stood, taking a few brief seconds to stabilise himself before he pushed forward, one leg extending in a smooth glide as he got himself accustomed to the sensation of being on ice.  
  
Alfred made a sound of delight as he shifted, much clumsier, like a bull on ice as he clambered onto his knees, trying to mimic the fluidity of Matthew’s stance and how he had so easily stood, only to find his knees shaking unsteadily, crashing back down heavily with a grunt. Matthew laughed at this, brushing his hair backwards from his face as he circled Alfred slowly, sliding backwards with a grace that made Alfred blush darkly.  
  
“Come on, I’ll help you on your feet first,” Matthew chuckled, angling his feet to the side and scraping to a steady halt, shaved ice bunching up against the edges of the blades, bending his knees and leaning down to grasp Alfred’s already outstretched hands, “Put one foot down firmly on the ice, but keep your centre of gravity forward, okay? Hold tight to my hands and I’ll help pull you up.”  
  
Tongue sticking out, Alfred did as Matthew said, first planting one foot down, using Matthew to pull himself up and forward, wobbling as he quickly stuck his second skate into the ice, digging in the jagged tip for extra balance, leaning his weight forward. Matthew watched him, giving a nod of satisfaction when Alfred was standing upright, returning the bright grin thrown in his direction with a smile.  
  
“Good job. We’ll get you to take small steps first. Walking on ice is actually a lot easier than skating, so let’s get you to do that first, eh? Take a step with every number, okay? One, two, one, two…”  
  
Each little number equated to a single step, Alfred placing one foot after the other, vigilantly watching his feet and where they were placed with every count as he began to walk. Looking up to smile proudly at Matthew, his tongue slipped back into his mouth, daring himself to go a little bit faster, steadily able to let go of Matthew’s hands until he was cautiously shuffling along the ice with tiny steps.  
  
“Great, you’re a fast learner,” Matthew praised, skating around and to stand at Alfred’s side, facing forwards, taking up his hand again, “Now what you’re going to do to skate is this: you put all your weight on your front foot, and then with your back, you angle it slightly and push. All your movement is on your front foot, the back is just shoving you along.”  
  
Nodding uncertainly, Alfred placed both feet firmly beside each other, watching Matthew’s feet for angles and positions before he pushed, gasping loudly and grinning widely.  
  
“I’m doin’ it, Mattie, I’m doin’ it!” he chirped excitedly, placing his foot back down.  
  
“You sure are—you’re doing fantastic. Come on, again, other foot,” Matthew instructed, taking his glides slow to keep up with Alfred, provide a visual on what to do, as well as stability assistance to keep Alfred from crashing to the ground. It was inevitable, but Matthew wanted to build the American’s self confidence and pride up a little first to make it less susceptible to a self-battering later should he falter, fall, or fail entirely.  
  
To his great joy and relief, Alfred was a quick learner—a jack of all trades and picked up skating quickly, going from walking on the ice to skating small distances in under half an hour. Matthew made sure to praise the American frequently, genuinely impressed with how fast he was improving, given it was his first time in the snow, and first time on ice.  
  
Alfred was a summer heat man from the desserts, going from horse riding to hot cities, with little experience in the cold. He’d expected more complaining than this, more fits of ‘turn the heater up’ or ‘add more logs to the fire’, but surprisingly, he hadn’t heard it even once the whole previous day or night.  
  
“I’m going to let go of your hands now,” Matthew cautioned softly, and once Alfred nodded his confirmation that he’d heard, he gently eased his hands away, their fingers brushing briefly before they slipped apart and Alfred skated slowly on his own.  
  
It was wobbly at first, slow, but an endearing sight to watch as Alfred trudged on in slow little pumps, his arms thrusting out to his side for balance, tongue poking from his lips again and brows set in determination.  
  
“You’ll bite your tongue that way—stick it back in your mouth,” Matthew added with a snigger, gliding a little bit forward, turning to skate backwards, carving little white lines against the light blue surface of the lake, shiny atop the dark blue, near black, of its depths, “There, look at you. You’re doing wonderfully.”  
  
“Wait, what about our shoes?” Alfred asked, looking up in little glances as Matthew guided them forward towards where they had shot out from on the snowy shoreline.  
  
“I’ve got them,” Matthew assured, patting the bag on his shoulder with a smile, “I’m going to start getting some blocks ready for a mini igloo and clear out some space to build it. You keep practicing while I do that, eh? We’ll skate around the circumference of the lake once you think you’re ready.”  
  
“Okay!”  
  
Gliding off of the ice, Matthew stepped back onto the land, taking extra care as he began to clear out a small area for Alfred to be able to comfortably sit on. A quick glance over his shoulder to make sure that he was okay, and then Matthew got to work, dropping the bag down and opened it, snorting and rolling his eyes as he pulled out a cased knife and an empty container.  
  
“Another reason you’re lucky we’re alive! I had a knife in the bag!” Matthew shouted back, placing them both on the ground as he began to pack snow into the container, using his whole arm to guide it in before he began to pat it firmly.  
  
“Why do you have a knife?”  
  
“For the igloo! Makes shaping the bricks easier!”  
  
“Oh! Don’t start without me!”  
  
“I’m just making the breaks—it’s pretty boring. I’ll call you over when I’ve got enough to start layering them, eh?”  
  
“Okay!”  
  
Half an hour in and there was a pile of uncut, smooth snow bricks at his side. Alfred waddled back on to land after a dozen heavy falls on the ice, nursing a sore rump and inspecting the pile, nose twitching when a snowflake landed on it.  
  
“How long is this gonna take?” Alfred questioned with a curious hum, kneeling down to watch Matthew smooth the snow along the soon-to-be brick, tilting his head when the container was flipped and bumped against the ground, the snow sliding out in perfect form, gasping at it, “Oh wow, that is so cool!”  
  
Matthew chuckled, sliding the block over to the pile, adjusting positions to sit with his legs outstretched, popping his back as he rotated at the waist, giving his hands a rest.  
  
“If we start now, we might have a third of it done today. We’ll make a big one, and between us two, it’ll probably take about two days—maybe three, given how little daylight we have, and we have to account for cleanup of any extra snowfall that happens overnight too,” Matthew hummed, fluffing his hair up a little, “We might only have about an hour to do that though before I say we had inside. We don’t want to risk being outside in heavy snowfall or trying to walk uphill when it’s too windy or dark.”  
  
“That’s no fun, so we don’t get much time outside?” Alfred whined fingering at one of the bricks, eyes widening in shock as his index finger poked through, looking urgently up to check if Matthew had seen, only to start stuffing snow into the hole to cover it.  
  
“Well, you’re going to wear yourself out  _and_  catch a cold if we’re out here morning until night—we have to eat lunch too, and warm up,” Matthew replied, “You’ll get a head cold and then be stuck inside sick for the rest of the trip plus when we get back home. Do you think that’s worth it?”  
  
Thinking on it, Alfred’s face scrunched up and he shook his head in the end with a huff, smoothing the snow over along the length of the brick, watching it cling to his gloves with a surrendered “No, I guess not.”  
  
“Let’s take our skates off first, get back into normal shoes,” Matthew said with a slight strain in his voice as he stretched for the bag, pulling it close without moving, grasping to the straps, only to pause, “Actually, no. Keep them on. We’ll put these bricks in first, smooth it off and set them with some snow then get back on the ice for one ring around the lake. I’d like to see what else we can find. The scenery’s gorgeous.”  
  
“It’s prettier with you in it.”  
  
Caught off guard by the compliment, Matthew blushed, blinking at Alfred in surprise, seeing Alfred looking about as he caressed the snow absentmindedly, and Matthew softened, leaning in to press a delicate kiss to Alfred’s chilled cheek.  
  
“My momma warned me ‘bout men like ya, out to steal m’ heart,” Matthew sighed in pitch, accent a monstrous butchery of the Texan twang, making Alfred laugh loudly, grinning in turn and pushing Alfred forward and down into a pile of snow nearby, their bodies sinking in as he crawled on top, “Makes a bad girl outta me.”  
  
“ _Stop_ , Mattie that accent is so  _bad_!” Alfred laughed, arms flopping by his head, swaying them about as he worked on a snow angel, “Besides, I’m not  _that_  bad an influence.”  
  
“That snow angel fools nobody,” Matthew drawled, voice lower once again, the words dripping from his lips in a manner akin to a Disney villain, “I see your horns. Right…  _here_.”  
  
With two swipes of the fingers, Matthew carved indents above Alfred’s head to appear like horns, pressing a kiss to red lips to smother protests. Instead, Alfred’s arms wrapped around him, twisting them about so that he was the one hovering above Matthew, leaning in to press firmer kisses. There was no protest to the sudden sweetness, and Matthew felt that there would probably be plenty of moments when he’d be caught by affection, by a doting and overly loving American with kisses, cuddles, and maybe something a little steamier to fog up the windows and melt the snow. Not that Matthew would allow that outdoors, but the former two he certainly didn’t mind.  
  
“Alfred,” he breathed, feeling the other grinding against him, rocking their hips together where he was being straddled, smiling as he pressed at Alfred’s chest, “Not out here.”  
  
How on earth had he predicted that  _so_  perfectly?  
  
“Sorry. I start thinkin’ and then I just can’t stop and it ends up like this,” Alfred murmured sheepishly, shifting backwards, pulling Matthew up, though remained seated quite happily in his lap.  
  
“Thinking? About?” Matthew prompted, wrapping his arms around Alfred’s waist, thighs bumping up and to the side to signal him to hop off.  
  
“It’s, y’know,  _that_  time of year, and I just get really happy, reminiscent, and all round grateful that I have you in my life,” he confessed softly, shuffling off Matthew’s lap and into the snow pile, then to the little round patch of frozen grass and stiff caked in snow that had been cleared earlier, “It’s been a great holiday, and it’s only been a day, and it’s just… I dunno, special… and… I’m being mushy but, y’know, I really…”  
  
Lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck, Alfred laughed sheepishly, stubbornly avoiding eye contact when Matthew edged in closer, blue eyes dragging along the bricks pre-made while he had been skating.  
  
“I mean, you do so much for me, and I act like a brat sometimes, and I’m kinda lazy and a total dude-bro. You remind me to eat and take showers when I’m stuck gamin’ for ages and that’s pretty gross, but you don’t get mad.” Pausing, Alfred snorted, laughing softly as his expression became loving. “I mean, you get mad after the tenth time, but not crazy abusive mad, and you don’t scream at me or nothin’. You just, love me a lot and now you’re showin’ me snow and how to build an igloo and ice skate and teachin’ me why it’s bad to throw myself down snowy hills. Man, I didn’t know any of this stuff and even though you practically shit yourself and looked like you were gonna murder me, you just… You’re patient, and I’m grateful. I love you a lot, okay? Just… I love you a lot.”  
  
Silence drifted between them, broken only by the swishing of the pine trees as they were pushed at by the wind, snowflakes speckling the air around them as they fluttered from the trees and overhead clouds. Chilly leather gloves cupped Alfred’s cheeks, melting snow against the bright red blush, his face guided back to face Matthew. They exchanged tender glances, and upon seeing Matthew’s utterly adoring and loving expression, it only solidified his own devotion to the Canadian. Their lips brushed between whispers of “I love you” and “I love you too” exchanged sweetly back and forth on shared breaths, their words lighter than the wind but oh so powerful.  
  
Amid stealing kisses and light giggles, blocks of snow were put in place, cemented with loose snow pat on firmly, and then angled with the knife in smooth strokes. The first layer of the igloo was built, and then the second, cracks sealed with snow until half way through the fourth layer they ran out of blocks, working as a team to build it from the ground up. Promising to return to it the next day, after an hour of work, they stood hand in hand with their belongings and walked carefully to the frozen lake where Matthew eased Alfred onto the ice, laughing at every slip and slide he had, though catching him each time.  
  
It wasn’t until the brink of sundown that they finally came off of the ice, changing their shoes and trudged back up the hill, hungry, exhausted and cold, their hands laced tightly together, keeping close to regain some of the warmth lost to the snow that had begun to fall thicker, the wind, and the long exposure to the outdoors.  
  
They peeled off their clothes together in the cabin, boots discarded at the door along with the bag of belongings as they undressed shivering, fleeing to the bathroom. They turned the shower on, kissing and grasping tight to one another for warmth until the spray of water turned a comfortable heat, stepping under. Both of their glasses rested on the sink by dry clothes, steaming as the water’s temperature steadily climbed when their bodies adjusted to the heat. Fingers explored familiar old maps long ago memorised, helping to wash and regain a feeling more than chilled numbness, and when they were done, they dried and dressed each other just as sweetly, little darkened kissing marks on their necks a promise to heat up further after dinner.  
  
“I want you to make love to me tonight, Mattie,” Alfred breathed, the heat of his exhale caressing the skin of Matthew’s neck, lips following in tender brushes, “Will you?”  
  
Grasping tightly to the handle of the spatula he held, Matthew inhaled slowly, angling his head back, moulding against Alfred’s chest, allowing his hips to grind slowly against his rear.  
  
“I guess since we showered together I know for sure you didn’t jerk off and relieve yourself there, eh?” he said breathlessly, chuckling lightly, “Yeah. Let’s do it tonight. Go light the fire for us, and then we can go curl up in bed and mess around a little after we eat.”  
  
“Sure thing, babe. We’ll fall asleep pretty quickly, though; food before sex,” Alfred spoke with a smile, pulling away with one final rub of Matthew’s hips, heading over to where the fireplace was, crouching down to peer in.  
  
“We’re going to fall asleep pretty quickly anyway—we were out all day and skating for at least two hours straight without break at one stage. Not to mention we didn’t eat lunch. I should have brought a watch down, but I got so distracted building the igloo and skating that time got away from me a little,” Matthew sighed, stirring through the meat and onions, reaching over to the beef stock and poured it in slowly, “I’m starving, and I didn’t realise it. It’s going to be a slow fuck, Al.”  
  
“Nah, I don’t want a fuck. I want you to make love. Slow is good, I want it that way. You work me up real good when you do it slow,” Alfred replied stuffing the newspaper into the fireplace, studying the logs he’d chosen, “I love it when we fuck, and I love makin’ love to you, but, I kinda want you to do it to me tonight.”  
  
“You want to bottom tonight?” Matthew clarified, looking over his shoulder quickly before he squirted the mustard into the pan, stirring it so that the beef, onions and mushrooms began to colour yellow, “You don’t want to top?”  
  
“I mean, I ain’t gonna say no if you wanna bottom, but… I kinda… y’know, feel a bit selfish. I like the attention you give me when you’re, uh, ‘the lead’. I can do more with my hands when I’m on my back and not focusin’ on, y’know,” he trailed off, laughing as he felt about the edge of the fireplace for the matches, “On not cummin’ too early or droppin’ my heavy weight on you. Your ass is so good, I feel like a teenager all over again.”  
  
“As if it’s any easier on me,” Matthew laughed, reaching over for the sour cream and tablespoon, taking a dollop and plopping it into the centre of the food, swirling it immediately to combine smoother with the boiling stock, “Your ass is perfect—tight and,  _God_ , so good to hold onto. But yeah, it’s been about a week or two since I last topped. Just have the lubricant and my size condoms ready, okay?”  
  
“No problem. I’ll get them once I get the fire goin’.”  
  
It was less sexual tension that burned between them as they shuffled about in a mutual silence, doing their own thing, than it was a passionate excitement. They weren’t wired up, driven mad by the need to fuck, but cosily bubbling in tender emotions they were eager to express physically, as much as they were at ease to simply leave it and wait while they filled other cravings, able to function without it solely bearing down on their minds like at other times.  
  
Love making, in comparison to fucking, didn’t feel like a desperate necessity.  
  
Dinner was shared slowly, rice with beef and mushrooms in a creamy mustard sauce, Alfred taking his time to appreciate and savour each bite, small talk pleasant and not awkward. The fire thawed out the chill of the cabin, and by the time the dishes were washed, dried and put away, and they were making their way to the ladder for the loft, it felt cosy once more. Matthew went up first, Alfred following behind, their slippers left on the floor, and he turned the electric blanket on, tugging his socks off and draped them over the rails by the head of the bedding area. Alfred mimicked his actions, albeit a little clumsier, tipping himself backwards to fall onto the bed so that his head was on the pillow, laughing as he tossed his socks to the end of the bed by the window that sat there.  
  
“You’re going to complain about not being able to find them in the morning,” Matthew murmured with a grin, tugging the blankets and duvet up and over them both, crawling over his lover.  
  
“That’s tomorrow’s problem though, ain’t it?” Alfred purred, spreading his legs willingly for Matthew to settle between them, helping to tug the duvet over Matthew’s shoulders, “Our feet will probably be cold too.”  
  
“Tomorrow’s problem,” Matthew dismissed, pinning Alfred’s hands by his head with his own, lacing their fingers together and kissed him chastely, “Where’s the lubricant and condom?”  
  
“Just by my head to the left,” Alfred said with a little head jerk, shifting to get a bit more comfortable, “Are we turning the lights off or keeping them on?”  
  
“Oh, shit, I forgot.”  
  
Reaching over for the set of switches, Matthew frowned as he felt about, casting a glance down as he flicked a few, doing so until all of the lights were off, left only with the glow of the fire from below.  
  
“There, now we’re good.”  
  
“Good? Nah, not yet. Not until you gimme a big ol’ smooch.”  
  
Laughing, Matthew rejoined their hands, resting his torso against Alfred’s, claiming his lips in a smooth motion. Their eyes fell shut, seeing with their sense of touch rather than their eyes. Teeth caught lower lips, softly pulling before they were sucked on lightly, tongue brushing in smooth swipes to draw tingles down their spines. Alfred was the first to moan, encouraging, always the loudest in bed whether he was giving or receiving, no longer ashamed by vocalising his pleasure.  
  
At the start, he had been, chewing his lips to swell greatly, grinding his teeth as he bit hard on a pillow—anything to keep himself quiet.  
  
Until Matthew.  
  
Until Matthew had gotten off simply on the few sounds that escaped his lips.  
  
Until Matthew had pleaded with him to be louder, to let him hear more, more,  _more_.  
  
Until Matthew had assured them that whatever he’d been told in the past was a lie, and that nothing brought him greater pleasure and happiness than hearing Alfred’s ecstasy.  
  
So he let his moans loose, shameless and as loud as he felt they needed to be; sometimes husky groans, sometimes pitched whimpers, and sometimes loud cries that echoed about the room they were in.  
  
Sharp breaths punctuated the moans, trembling and aching in his chest as Matthew’s lips trailed down the defined line of his jaw, while slim but callused fingers traced up beneath his pyjamas and thermal undershirt and along his skin, smoothing the eager tension out with little tickles that made Alfred giggle and squirm. Love making was always fun, affectionate, and mixed in with laughs, smiles, and gentle teasing. Their touches were always soft and slow, and Matthew had expressed openly how he never before had ever felt genuinely cherished during a sexual act than when he was with Alfred when they made love.  
  
Pants slid down and off first, tangling around their ankles, Matthew making a sound of amusement as the electric blanket brushed along the skin of his rear, Alfred raising a curious eyebrow, only to be given the response, “My ass is being warmed.”  
  
They laughed together, smothered and swallowed by kisses, breaking off into husky groans and sighs as their hips connected, grinding in slow circles, erections bumping. Their hands only released and they parted long enough to shrug off their pyjama tops, pushing them to the edge of the mattress with their bottoms to be squished against the wall and put on later, shivering at the slightest chill and pressing in again, nipples hard and brushing against one another’s chests. Matthew’s hands slipped down to spread Alfred’s thighs more while Alfred’s hands went to his hair and his back, clutching and tugging in little motions to egg Matthew on. Catching a pebbled nipple, Matthew sucked softly, tongue flicking against it, allowing his head to be pulled close to the sun kissed chest, teasing at it so that Alfred’s back arched from the bed, only to switch to the other, repeating his ministrations.  
  
“Lubricant, Al,” Matthew gasped out, groaning as Alfred fisted his cock, his hair splaying pale yellow against dark gold skin, forehead pressed to it as he rocked his hips into the grip, huffing out breaths of air.  
  
The bottle was pushed into his seeking palm, and he clicked the lid open, slathering his fingers up hastily and pressed them between Alfred’s legs. His moan of pleasure was echoed, and gently, he began to thrust first a single digit, then two, and then three, curling them in come-hither motions until Alfred was panting harshly, clutching hard to his back and dragging blunt nails along his pale skin, bucking down and begging for more.  
  
Alfred tore the condom package open with trembling fingers, pinching the top and unrolling it slightly, sitting up a bit and bracing himself on his elbows to roll the rubber down all the way to the base of Matthew’s cock, giving it one long stroke just to tease as Matthew’s fingers twisted and pressed to the spongy texture of his prostate gland, rubbing firmly. Jerking up, Alfred’s hips bucked sporadically, fisting the sheets and twisting them between his fingers as his eyes shut tightly, brows knitting upwards, and his jaw slackening to allow his moans to flow freely, head tipping back in pleasure. Leaning in, Matthew kissed along his jaw and chin sweetly, keeping his ear close to Alfred’s lips to hear his sounds better, mingling with the squelch of his fingers thrusting, stretching and rubbing.  
  
Even before, they switched positions often, and were both loose enough that they wouldn’t need to spend a long time on preparations and stretching, though they both liked to do so simply to be on the safe side. Undeniably, there was an intimacy in the act that made it gratifying, listening to the ecstasy it caused, watching how hips twitched and backs arched, and how forearms tensed with strong muscles with every thrust of fingers. They enjoyed watching and listening as much as doing—exhibitionism and voyeurism safely practiced between the two in their own bedroom.  
  
“I— _Nngh_ … I’ve always wanted to have a— _ah_ … a white Christmas.”  
  
Fingers slid out gently, using the remaining lubricant on them to slick up the tip of the condom with a bit more than just what was in the packet, adding an extra squirt from the bottle for precautions.  
  
“Thanks for surprisin’ me with this vacation.”  
  
Matthew smiled, leaning in and pressed one two, three kisses to Alfred’s lips, and then guided his cock to the puckered muscle and pushed in, synchronised moans harmonising before breathless laughs.  
  
“We’re gonna finish the igloo tomorrow right?”  
  
“Mhm… And have a snowball fight too,” Matthew promised, pulling his hips back and pressing back in slowly, violet eyes fluttering shut, only to force them open to watch Alfred’s expression. There was a reason he had left his glasses on.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
“I love you too.”  
  
Tenderly, softly, Matthew thrust, pushing in deeper every time, the curve of his cock rubbing over the sensitive prostate, bracing himself with one hand by Alfred’s head to keep him up, the other stroking long and adoring lines down his sun kissed torso. Each push had Alfred’s body jerking along the sheets with the momentum; legs wrapped high around Matthew’s waist while one of his arms encircled his neck, the other hand jerking him off to the rhythm of each motion.  
  
Urgency bubbled as their pleasure spiked and boiled in their veins, Alfred fidgeting restlessly, grinning widely and tossing his head back when Matthew kissed and sucked along his neck, starting to thrust deeper, grunting his own pleasure softly.  
  
“Harder, Mattie.”  
  
A sharp gasp and Alfred’s toes were curling, blunt nails dragging pink lines down Matthew’s back, his breaths coming in faster, sweat glistening along his hair line.  
  
“Harder, Mattie, please, r-right there, oh God.”  
  
“Here?”  
  
“ _Ah_! Yes! Yes, yes, yes,  _there_!”  
  
Altering the angles of his motions, Alfred arched into the newer, deeper, and harder thrusts, his hand falling out of rhythm in his desperation for release, sounds echoing louder, his face flushed darkly, expression twisted with pleasure.  
  
“Are you cumming?”  
  
“C-Close.”  
  
“Nngh… Hang on.”  
  
Shifting himself onto his knees, Matthew hooked Alfred’s legs up over his shoulders, easing down to where there was a comfortable stretch before he began again; harder, deeper, and Alfred howled in ecstasy.  
  
In minutes, they were both releasing hard with deep shudders, gasping each other’s name into their mouths and the night air, clutching to each other in desperate embraces, the icy snow from the outdoors forgotten with the heat encircling them.  
  
“Merry late Christmas, Al,” Matthew panted, nuzzling in close, bringing Alfred into his arms as they began to cool off, “I… I’m happy you enjoyed your present.”  
  
“ _Mm_ … Yeah… It’s the perfect winter wonderland that I…  _nn_ … always wished for. Merry late Christmas, Mattie. I love you.”  
  
“I love you too, Al.”


End file.
